


Modern Art

by Walkerbaby



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkerbaby/pseuds/Walkerbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master has taken the Doctor's advice and found a new - creative - outlet for his energy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Art

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine I just play with them. Doctor Who belongs to BBC and at the point this story was written Russell T Davis

  


Title - Modern Art  
Rating - PG  
Disclaimer - Absolutely not mine. It all belongs to RTD and the BBC  
Author's Note - used [](http://elfgirljen.livejournal.com/profile)[**elfgirljen**](http://elfgirljen.livejournal.com/) prompt Master/Doctor - Markers. Thank you muchly and I hope you like where this went with it!  
Author's Summary - The Master has taken the Doctor's advice and found a new - creative - outlet for his energy.

 

"Lie still," the Master grunted as he shifted his position so that more of his weight rested on the Doctor’s thighs, pinning him to the bed. 

"It tickles," the Doctor retorted as he squirmed harder. The Master reached down and slapped him sharply across the back of the head. The Doctor dropped his head back down and snorted into the pillow. 

"This was all your idea," the Master replied as he focused on his self assigned task. 

"How exactly was this my idea?" 

"You were the one who told me I needed a creative outlet for all my energy. Remember? We were having tea and chocolate Hob Nobs? Went something along the lines of ‘blah blah blah bladdedy blah blah blah. You need a creative outlet Master. Blah blah blah blah. Taking over worlds is bad. Blah blah blah. Yammer yammer yammer. Nag, nag, nag. Art. You were always so talented at art." 

"I meant something like painting or drawing. Landscapes perhaps. Murals even if you wanted to work on a grander scale. Something to be appreciated by the masses and help serve as your rehabilitation of a sort." 

"Boring," the Master sniffed.

"You used to love drawing and painting at the Academy. I remember hours spent staying perfectly still so you could get my eyelashes right. That portrait of Borusa you did was still hanging at the Academy," the Doctor stopped. It was still hanging at the Academy when the Time War came and Gallifrey burnt. 

"I still like art," the Master agreed; allowing the Doctor a reprieve from the stinging comment he was sure lingered just below the surface. "I’ve just decided to experiment with the medium of my creative expression. Now shut up, every time you speak it shifts your back." 

"I still don’t see how coloring on my back with markers is a medium." 

"Oh it’s not," he could tell the Master was smiling from his tone. "You know that little box I brought in with me? No, don’t look up." 

"What is it?" The Doctor growled. "I thought it was a spare box of markers. What is it really?" 

"Full color genetic laser imprimateur that I tweaked especially for this." 

"It’s a laser tattoo?" The Doctor shrieked and began to struggle as he felt the Master press his thighs tightly around the Doctor’s hips and then the cool slide of metal against his back. "Don’t you dare!" 

"Too late," he could hear the Master coo smugly. "Half done now. Hold still." 

"I swear to Rassilon if you’ve put something disgusting on my back I will throw you out of the Tardis while we’re in flight Koschei!" 

"Oh quit being so dramatic Thete," the Master giggled and it was like they were in their first century again. "It’s not like anyone ever sees your back anyway. Did I mention I tweaked it specially for you?" 

"It’s only temporary?" The Doctor suggested hopefully. 

"No, the opposite in fact," the Master chuckled. "I made it so the tattoo is now encoded into your regenerative DNA." 

"You mean?" The Doctor asked in horror. 

"All the rest of your regenerations," the Master confirmed and the Doctor felt the Master’s weight shift off his own legs. Rolling over he prepared to launch himself at the other Time Lord and saw that he was laughing as he retreated hastily toward the door. 

"KOSCHEI!" 

"Bye bye," the Master laughed as he bolted from the room. The Doctor launched himself from the bed and started after him then stopped as he caught a glimpse of his back in the mirror. The Medusa Cascade was printed in elegant red Gallifreyan calligraphy in the middle of his back. The word Axons was nearby in blue. Grabbing a smaller mirror he looked into it at the reflection of his back cast in the second mirror. Thete, he saw imprinted in a glittery gold on his left shoulder. 

"There were once two sons of Gallifrey," he whispered as he read the words. "Shining promises of a dying world." It was their story, his story - their time at the academy, their escape from Gallifrey, their adventures together, their battles, the Time War, the Valiant, all inscribed upon his skin. When he reached the bottom he noticed the mark, small, almost invisible - a small, elegant, black mark alone in the riot of color that decorated him. ‘Koschei’. 

He walked slowly into the kitchen, buttoning his shirt. "I’ve made tea," the Master handed him a cup. 

"Any Hob Nobs?" The Doctor replied. 

"No," the Master shook his head. "I’ll stop at Tesco’s while you’re retrieving the lovely Miss Jones from her visit with her family." 

"Right," the Doctor agreed. "Any chance you can get some jelly babies as well?" 

"Already on the list." 

"Fine." 

"Right." The Doctor looked over at the Master and they both silently took a sip of tea. 


End file.
